“Where shall we betake us when the day’s work is over?
(Ah, red is the rose-bush in the lane.)
Happy is the maid that knows the footstep of her lover—
(Sing the song, the Eden song, again.)
Who shall listen to us when black sorrow comes a-reaping?
(See the young lark falling from the sky.)
Happy is the man that has a true heart in his keeping—
True hearts flourish when the roses die.”